Alison Waterhouse's Revenge
by Fourteen-thirty-two
Summary: John gives Caroline an early draft of his new novel and she's dismayed to find that not only has he not left Alison Waterhouse behind as he'd promised, but he's written a version in which he manages to upset pretty much every member of the extended Dawson/Elliot/Greenwood family. Caroline is not pleased. This is my alternative series three, from episode 3 onwards.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Well, what did you think?"

John's question seemed unnecessary. Twenty years of marriage to Caroline should have amply prepared him for the expression she wore, but he was an inward-looking man whose life experience seemed to have taught him nothing but the ability to make every situation about himself. He fidgeted, expectantly. Caroline felt overwhelmingly irritated.

She looked from John's eager face to the bright, cluttered marble worktop in front of her. She stared, deliberately, at the collection of cups, papers, a bunch of keys, and...was that a conker? She used this pause, this familiar interlude, to prevent her temper erupting. It was a well-practiced tactic. She removed her glasses in silence, and took a breath.

"You are joking?" She asked in that way she had of making a question sound like a statement.

"What do you mean? Jo…"

"I mean you can't be serious?" Again, John feels it's probably not a question.

"Well, it's just a...it's not supposed to be...it's fictional." He offers.

Caroline is not even slightly placated by this.

"I thought we'd discussed this. I thought we'd agreed that our lives are very much off-limits when it comes to your books." She uses air quotes as she spits the word 'books' at him. Caroline is an efficient hunter, she knows just how to wound her prey.

"Now wait a mi...that's hardly...it's not about you." He says, it's a familiar argument, but Caroline can see he believes it.

"Not about us?" She lifts the weighty manuscript from in front of John, flips it round to face her. She opens to a page she has marked with a brightly coloured sticky note. The glasses go back on.

"'He stands there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, he bares his heart to her.'" Caroline reads, her monotone suggests she is not amused – it's too subtle a clue for John. "'Is there some merit in you and I, well, getting back together?' He asks her. She turns, furious, and yells 'I'm a lesbian, I like sleeping with other women, I always did' he is heartbroken, his..."

"Yes, yes okay, there are some...themes...in common," John concedes, "But it's just…"

"You killed my wife", She says quietly.

"I…Alison Waterhouse's wife...yes, I… " there's no point in denying it.

"Is that what you think of me?" Caroline asks, she sounds upset.

John opens his mouth to speak, and closes it. Caroline is doing that thing she does where she acts hurt to get you to drop your guard but she's about to rip your head off, he's sure of it. Luring yo in like a Venus flytrap. He has to tread carefully.

"I don't know what you mean, Caroline." He tries to echo her tone but he's already bracing for impact.

"Do you think so little of me, as a person, that you'd write this...this fiction to find a way to possess me, again?"

Again, his mouth opens, it closes. No sounds escape.

She continues, "I am the happiest I have been in years and your response is to pen this alternate universe in which you get to swoop in and…"

"Hardly swoop, Caroline. I...the, the hero. He has a pretty hard time being ridiculed by the lesbians and––" He foolishly interjects.

"You. Killed. My. Wife." The glasses come off again.

There's a rustle at the kitchen door, Kate – tiny Flora asleep against her chest – gives Caroline a quizzical look as she fumbles amongst the clutter on the kitchen island for something. "There it..." She exclaims, holding up a clean muslin. She smiles at her wife as Caroline mouths "tell you later" and she heads back upstairs with their child.

"You killed my wife" Caroline hisses at John.

"Well the plot... It reconciled them all, didn't it, this monumental tragedy."

Caroline is lost for words. Not wanting to scream at him in the house her tiny, colicky baby is sleeping in, but suddenly feeling that screaming might be the only thing to do.

"You are not publishing this," she says, sure of it.

"It's...the publishers love it. And I've spent the advance and everything now. So. So, I have to. No one will know it's you."

I don't care people knowing it's me, John. I've just come out to a school full of teenagers, do you think there haven't been looks, been comments. I don't care about me, I can take it." She pauses, momentarily.

"I care about Kate, and our children. I care that you've written this story for yourself and treated her like a plot twist, nothing more. That you've written a future for her child that involves two hapless dads, but no Kate. Do you know how long she has waited to be a mum? Of course you don't. And what about the message it sends to Lawrence – his dad has written Kate out of his book, his life. Dispatched. Got rid of. Easy as. Like she's unimportant. Have you any idea the effort Kate and I have put in to getting Lawrence to accept her and Flora? And you've all but given him a free pass to reject her."

"Well that wasn't my intention."

"I know that. I know this wasn't about him. It was about you. About exploring your alternative future, putting right all the wrongs you felt were done to you. That much is made abundantly clear. But we talked about this when the boys were tiny, do you remember?, the example you set, especially to Lawrence, is important. And now, more than ever, he needs to see us all getting on. We need to be bigger than this kind of..." She trails off. Her propensity to chose words that wound was second nature but it wasn't what she needed here.

"This kind of what?" John bristles, defensively.

"This kind of fantasy. You've got it down, you've got it out if your system. Now please, please, see what kind of damage you're going to do to your own family if you go ahead and publish this…this…" Again, she edits herself, "this book."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for the overwhelmingly positive support, I really appreciate it. Thanks also to the reviewers who have pointed out similarities between my story and the excellent "Lunch?" by VAWoolf. This is merely the type of happy coincidence which occurs when writers draw from the same material. Here the book, which resets the storyline from series three, is a small device, and not the crux of the story. It's presence and potential is well established in canon. Having established it's role, let's get on with finding out what's going on with Caroline, et all._

* * *

 **Chapter two**

"Has he gone?" Kate calls over her shoulder as the front door slams.

Caroline pushes the bolt across and walks back along the hallway, leaning around the sitting room door, her voice is heavy, tired. "yes" she sighs. Kate pats the sofa next to her and moving her feet from underneath her, rests them on the edge of the coffee table, and then the floor. Caroline lands heavily beside her.

"What was all that about?" Kate asks, careful not to sound like she is feeling a little left out, even though she is. John has only just moved out again, and now he seems to be back here all the time.

"Oh…" says Caroline, trying to sound casual when she feels very far from it, "just…John's book." She's hoping they can leave it at that. It's been a busy day and the green lights on the baby monitor suggest that Flora is asleep. A rare opportunity for Caroline to spend some time with the woman she adores has presented itself, and she doesn't want to waste the time talking about John.

She leans into Kate, resting her head on her wife's shoulder, Kate lifts her arm and let's it settle, lightly, around Caroline's tired shoulders. She breathes Kate in, she smells of soap, her moisturiser and the milky baby smell she thought she'd seen the last of years ago. And the particular scent of her neck, that warm, familiar smell, is still there. Caroline settles there for a moment, she makes a tiny involuntary sound, a languid, guttural groan. She feels Kate shiver.

Placing a gentle kiss on Kate's neck. "Cold?" She asks.

Kate shakes her head. She arches her long, perfect neck and meets Caroline's lips with her own. "Not cold," she says, her words disappearing into Caroline's mouth, mingling with her tongue, her breath.

* * *

There's a quiet tap at the kitchen window and Kate, engrossed in the newspaper, warm tea cup in her hand, looks up. Celia. Did she roll her eyes, she hopes she didn't roll her eyes. She slides off her stool and goes to let her mother-in-law in.

"Is she here?" Celia asks quietly, leaning over the doorstep into the house but not daring to enter. It'd been like this since the wedding. Celia refused to attend because she was upset with Alan, and Caroline paid the price. Having not long lost her Dad, Kate felt torn between her own need to build the family around her, to accept them for who they were and make the best of them whilst they were here, and how protective she felt of Caroline. Strong, resilient Caroline who cried on their wedding night because her mother's apology for missing their joyous day was a thinly disguised enquiry into who thought what about her, in her absence.

"She's taken Flora out for a stroll, she had a bad ni…" Kate stops short, feeling disloyal, feeling exhausted by this feud. She tenses her jaw in that subconscious way she does that means she can't fob Caroline off with an insincere 'I'm fine' when she isn't. "Did you want to speak to her – she'll be back soon?" Kate knows the answer to that one, but the older woman looks troubled and Kate feels for her, so she stands aside, offering the open doorway, she takes a deep breath, "Would you like some tea?"

"Alan's gone to the farm," Celia announces, wrapping her hands hungrily around the mug Kate hands her. Ah, Kate thinks, she's been left on her own, that's usually what prompts these little visits. They've been happening for months. Since the wedding, since Flora was born. Caroline has no idea.

"How's the wedding planning going?" Kate asks and Celia's demeanour immediately brightens. Dresses and flowers and the politics of guest lists are safe topics, and the two while away the morning.

"Celia." Kate interjects just as Celia tries to explain why Robbie's best man and the chief bridesmaid should probably not be left alone together.

"Yes, Love."

"Caroline'll be back soon." She says gently. "I'm not saying you should go. I'm not. In fact, I'd like it if you'd try to talk to her…sometime, maybe not today, but…well, she'll be back by eleven."

"I think I should go." Celia is resolute. "Thanks for the tea and the company, love."

"Give my best to Alan when he's back." Kate calls down the hall as Celia retreats. Kate rinses Celia's mug swiftly, and tucks it into the back of the dishwasher.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The kitchen is peaceful, still. Caroline – already in a figure-hugging black shift dress and crisp grey jacket, hair pinned up and make up applied perfectly – flicks on the kettle and grabs a mug, two mugs, from the side. A small murmur from the dining room sofa, she looks down to see Kate, wrapped up in that grey maternity cardigan she finds so adorable, the one with sleeves so long they hang over her slender, elegant hands. And on her chest a sleepy, gloriously quiet Flora.

"Tea?" Caroline whispers. She pads over to to Kate, bending down and kissing her forehead. She rests a hand lightly on the tiny sleeping form of their daughter, the look on her face of utter adoration is not lost on Kate.

"Tea would be great. I'll see if I can put her down." Kate stands up, expertly, with out disturbing the baby and, cradling her child in her hands, gently nestles her into her sleeper. There's a quiet gurgle and both mothers freeze, looking at each other, then Caroline points to the kitchen and they both tiptoe away.

In hushed voices, the two chatter away, "Are you glad to be going back?" Kate asks. It's Caroline's first day back at school since Flora's slightly premature arrival, and they are both a little nervous. Caroline has become comfortably accustomed to having her wife around her. To looking up from her desk and seeing her there, to feeling a hand on her shoulder when it's time to leave the work alone and spend some time with her family. Her family. Which now included this beautiful woman and her child. Their child.

Caroline scrunches her nose a little, "I think glad is the wrong word." she say kindly, "but at least I'll not be here, getting under your feet. We can get a proper routine sorted. I think I'm a disruptive influence."

Kate laughs a little. She's still nervous. Caroline has done this all before and whilst she has graciously not undermined any of Kate's decisions as a new mother, she's always there for back up, to make her feel safer about being responsible for this tiny, perfect person. Caroline clocks the look on Kate's face.

"You can call me any time." she says. "Any time. For whatever. Okay?"

Kate feels reassured, "okay."

"Okay." Caroline echoes. "And Alan's usually next door and there's always my mother…" They both shake their heads simultaneously. "Well, there's Alan. You'll be fine."

"I'll be fine." Kate watches Caroline move around the kitchen, her stockinged feet gliding soundlessly on the polished wooden floor. Watches her reach over the counter and shove her mobile phone into the top of her bag. "You know, I almost wish I was going too."

"To work?" Caroline sips her tea, "Why?"

"You." She says, simply. "I miss seeing you strutting around that place in those suits, and your heels, leaving quaking sixth formers in your wake."

"I don't think I…" Caroline begins, "Do I strut?"

Kate laughs, "It's a thing to behold." She assures her wife.

* * *

Caroline's black Jeep pulls effortlessly into her designated parking space outside the brick facade of Sulgrave Heath. Irritatingly, the sign at the front of the school still reads Doctor Elliot, it's on Caroline's list. Lawrence leaps out of the passenger seat and as Caroline climbs out she watches him gallop off to meet his friends. The familiarity of the routine is soothing. Nothing to worry about. Nothing has changed, she tells herself.

As she marches through the corridors to her office she remembers Kate's comment from this morning and glances self-consciously around her for quaking sixth formers. There are none. She smiles to herself. Then checks her phone. Nothing. It's fine, it's okay. They will cope perfectly well without her. But. Okay, it's probably silly, but a tiny bit of her wants them to need her. Right about now.

Her phone buzzes whilst it's still in her hand. She glances down as she turns the corner and climbs the stairs to her first floor office. It's Kate. Sliding her finger across the screen she sees a photo of Flora appear and a text:

We miss you already x

She smiles.

* * *

Kate opens the heavy front door and basks in the sunshine it lets in, and the delicious reversal of roles as she sees John, formerly head…well, deputy head…of this house, squinting up at her.

"Yes?" She asks. John has been the most difficult obstacle to negotiate during her relationship with Caroline. It's funny, she thought it was going to be Celia. But John was like the proverbial bad penny, he just kept turning up. Before they were married he'd lost an unborn daughter and Kate, heavily pregnant with Flora, really felt for him. She had, herself, lost children in the past, she knew that bone-aching sorrow. She pitied him.

At first he was delightful to have around, endearing with his gifts for her unborn child, rustling her up some lunch when she felt too tired, too pregnant, to even stand. Except she had to, of course, for the twentieth trip to the loo in the past hour. And then she had let him tag along to a birthing class. She knew it was a bad idea, but she was too tired to try to dissuade him. And he'd referred to Caroline as his wife. And her as 'his wife's girlfriend'. It was mortifying. She would have had him out of the house that night, key revoked, done. But of course he's William and Lawrence's dad. And it's political. And she has to negotiate him, and the boys, and Caroline. One thing that always brought her and Celia together was a shared distain for John. He had his uses.

But something had happened recently, between him and Caroline, and he'd been scarce. He'd had a flat sorted out some weeks ago but he'd still been there, whenever she least wanted to see him. But recently: nothing for days and days. Kate had felt lighter for it. And now here he was, again. And he had flowers.

"Is…is Caroline here?" he asked.

"She's back at work today." Kate explained, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"Oh..oh. Is she? Right." John fidgeted a bit. Down the hallway the faint sound of Flora starting to cry caused Kate to set her jaw determinedly. _He's not coming in._ She tells herself.

"Do you need to…" John starts.

"So I'll tell her you came by." Kate states.

"Well, erm, yes. Thank you." John says, seeming to suddenly notice the flowers in his hands, "I brought these for her. To say sorry. We had a bit of a…a falling out. A disagreement." He explains.

"Yes." Kate is not stepping aside, and she's not backing down. He is not coming in.

"I don't suppose I could…" he nods towards the house beyond her.

"No." Kate listens to her child cry. "You can leave them with me. She'll be back by 5." Kate could kick herself. Why did she say that? She doesn't want him turning up tonight. When she gets Caroline home, after not seeing her all day. She wants her, and Flora, and Caroline and their isolated bliss and to pretend this joker has nothing whatsoever to do with them.

"Right. Okay." He says, handing the flowers over. "Pop back later then."

Kate steps back and lets the door close in front of him.

* * *

When the backdoor opens a few moments later, as Kate is gently soothing her screaming daughter, she is ready to explode at John for his audacity. But she turns to see Alan, crisply shirted, tie and pristine pullover ever-present, duck his head into the dining room.

"Knock, knock." He says quietly. Kate smiles widely at him. She loves Alan. Her own father died just before Christmas, but she felt like he'd been gone some time, he had Alzheimers and the dad she knew was long gone. And Alan was so like him. He was gentle, considered, supportive.

"I didn't want to knock, love, in case the little one was sleeping." He explains.

"John was here. He woke her already…" Kate gently bobs Flora up and down, trying to ease the cries.

"Ah!" Alan exclaims, all too aware of John's disruptive influence.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear her screaming." Kate laughs.

"No, well. But she has some lungs on her, don't you little one? Can I…?" He offers his hands and Kate passes over her screaming child. Alan tucks her over his shoulder and whispers something to her. As a grandfather, Kate can think of no one better for her child and she's so grateful for this lovely, kind man. "I've got her, love, if you want to put your feet up, or something, for a minute? I'm good with babies, then generally like me."

Kate smiles, "You didn't come over to babysit?"

Alan looks guilty, he's been caught out, "Ah, yes..well…I wanted to…pick your brains a little." He winces, not entirely happy with his choice of words.

But Kate is intrigued, "Oh yes..?"

"It's this thing with Celia and Caroline," Alan's voice echoes Kate's weariness, "we need to help them sort it out. It's been going on far too long."

"Agreed." Kate offers Alan a cup of tea, he nods.

"I thought we might do a little…light meddling?" There's an unmistakable look of mischief on Alan's face, "Are you in?"

"I'm in." Kate confirms, "what did you have in mind?"

* * *

"They're meeting us at eight?" Gillian hollers down the stairs.

"Quarter to." Robbie replies. Handing a dried plate to Raff who dutifully places it in the cupboard.

"Where you off to?" He asks.

"Oh, we've got some dinner thing your Mum's agreed to with your Uncle…with Gary." Robbie explains, shaking out the dishtowel and draping it over the Aga to dry.

"Where's 'at?" Raff asks. Instinctively checking the fridge for leftovers, cake, anything.

"Some wanky restaurant. Don't ask. I've no idea."

"Well, what's it for?" Raff can't help but think he's missing out on something here. Robbie hands him a scrunched up £20.

"Get ye sen a pizza." He orders and Raff's eyes light up, "No clue. Gary want's to help out with t'honeymoon. Got some posh villa we can use for nowt. I think he's trying to suggest it gently to your M––"

Gillian bustles into the kitchen, smoothing down her hair. Raff and Robbie watch her pick at an almost invisible piece of lint on the front of her dress. She doesn't want to go. This is the last thing she needs after a busy shift at Pattersons, following a night up with that pregnant ewe. It took her half an hour to decide on this dress and it doesn't even sit right, does it? She looks up at them both watching her.

"Are you wearing that?" Raff asks.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as she gets home the shoes come off. Kate smiles to herself. Caroline's spent weeks of parental leave in flat shoes or barefoot and, much as Kate enjoyed the sight of her wife in those heels, she often wondered how she coped in them all day at school.

"Good day?" Kate asks as Caroline instinctively reaches for a wine glass and a bottle of Chianti.

"It went well, yes, thank you." She puts the bottle down, unopened, and moves around the kitchen island to where Kate is standing. Rests her hands around her wife's neck and rests her forehead against Kate's, "How. Was. Your. Day?" She punctuates each word with a kiss.

"Okay." Kate replies, her eyes fixed hungrily on those lips. Caroline leans in to kiss her again when her eye is caught by the floral display behind Kate.

"What's that?" She asks.

"John was here." Kate explains.

Caroline nods, slowly, taking it in, then returns to her unfinished task. She kisses Kate again, and Kate slides her hands around Caroline's waist, against her back, holding her there. As their lips part Caroline's eyes flick back to the flowers.

"Are those chrysanthemums?" She shakes her head in disbelief, "Eighteen years of marriage and he still doesn't know I hate the smell of chrysanthemums!"

* * *

Kate adjusts the volume on the television, left loudly entertaining an empty sitting room when Lawrence disappeared upstairs, and settles back on the sofa. Cradling Flora, gently, she props her arm with a cushion, pulls up her blouse, and helps Flora settle against her breast. This was one thing that her fantasies of motherhood had not done justice to - the connection she would feel to the child hungrily, sleepily, suckling from her. As Flora's heavy eyelids flutter, she grasps Kate's finger with her tiny, perfect hand, and Kate wants to cry.

"Do you need anything? Tea?" Caroline is leaning against the door, watching her and Flora, her look of contentment nourishes Kate, leaves her flushed with joy.

She shakes her head, slowly. "I've got everything I need," she says as there's a knock at the front door.

She hears Caroline answer, hears the muffled sound of John's voice through the wall, and she sighs. Caroline leads him along the hallway to the kitchen, silently pulling the sitting room door closed as she passes, giving Kate and Flora their privacy.

* * *

"…And of course this is ever since the wedding!" Gillian exclaims.

Robbie, beside her, guiding his truck expertly through the beautiful, lanes of the Dales, headlights picking out their path. He slips her a sideways glance, "Is it?" He's not convinced.

"Well. Yes. She's not been over to the farm since, has she?" Gillian fiddles with her hair, the hem of her dress: she's tetchy. Robbie thinks it's probably because of the upcoming wedding, possibly because of Gary, but almost certainly nothing to do with Caroline. He'd known Gillian too long to accept her attempts at deflection.

"Don't you think that's maybe more to do with Celia? With them falling out, an' all, I mean. I thought you didn't go to the wedding because you'd fallen out with Caroline?"

"Fallen out? No! She was the one who…"

"Who invited you to her wedding and you pretended you were busy?" Robbie tries not to smirk as he gently teases Gillian.

"Well, yes. Tech-ni-cally, I did that. Yes. If you want to get picky. But she was…"

Again, Robbie interrupts, "the one who sent abusive text messages on her wedding day?"

"Well that was J… " Gillian thinks better of it, remembering what happened the first time Robbie met John. There's no point in bringing that up again, "that was…unfortunate. I was pissed."

"So what did Caroline do, _exactly_?"

"I don't know. She gave me a hard time about me dad not telling Celia about Gary…" Gillian's reply has an air of resignation, "I suppose I can't blame her for that."

Beside her, silently, Robbie smiles, "So…?"

"So yes. I suppose. I can invite her and Kate for dinner. And the baby…Flora. And Lawrence. Yes. I suppose I can do that."

* * *

The raised voices always sounded louder in this kitchen, Caroline thinks, it'll be the marble. She watches John gesticulating but she's no longer listening to what he's saying. Doesn't need to. Heard it all before. This is a well-worn road.

"Enough. I think I have had enough of your thoughts from your self-pitying monologues in that book. I am only too aware of how you feel, John, and the thing you fail to realise is that this isn't about you anymore. It's about me. And Kate. And Flora. And the boys. I'm never going to stop you seeing them, the boys, but you need to respect our space. We're a family now. It was your choice to leave. You can't blame me for moving on. You are not the victim here."

"But maybe if you weren't a dy––" John, begins. He stops short as Caroline's expression offers the punctuation, "lesbian?" he, offers almost as a question, "I wouldn't have…have…"

"Have what? I never cheated on you. I never pursued a relationship with anyone else whilst I was with you."

"Maybe not a person." John's looking down at his feet. He's unshaven, dishevelled, Caroline is mildly appalled by him. "But that bloody school has been your…your… mistress since you first took the job. Late nights, weekend phone calls, you…you never had any time for me and the boys." Caroline's expression is thunderous, and John knows he's overstepped. Whatever he felt about their relationship, he knew that nothing came between Caroline and her children. She loved them fiercely, unreservedly. He knew she'd never loved him with that much passion, that certainty. He'd always envied it. He felt pathetic, a cliche. He knew he was the architect of his own misery, and there was nothing he could do to change things, to wind back the clock, but lashing out helped. It soothed him, momentarily. Telling Alan and Celia that Caroline had been irrational and hysterical when she found out about Judith, that helped. It wasn't what she deserved, but it helped.

"Do you really want to get into this now?" Caroline asks, quite exhausted. Why are they still here, at this crossroads? Why is he still picking at a scab that everyone else is happy to let heal? She is married to someone else, for god's sake. She's happy… And maybe, she thinks, that's it. If it was escapism for both of them, she'd thrown herself into work and achieved something. He'd pursued a doomed relationship with a hugely damaged individual and was left feeling alienated from the people who once depended on him. She tries kindness, because on reflection, she has everything she ever wanted, and what does he have? "Perhaps," she concedes, "perhaps the signs were there before either of us acknowledged them. But focusing on my career was never a betrayal. I was under the impression that, having taken the time off to have our children, having supported you whilst you were writing, that you were behind me, supporting me, whilst I pursued my career goals. Not off sh––" she lowers her escalating voice, "shagging someone else."

"Yes, yes. I know I was…" John stumbles over his words.

"Weak?" Caroline offers.

"Thank you. Well…that's…" He's offended, but he can't really argue that she's wrong. You can always rely on Caroline to see just exactly the thing you think you're hiding from her.

"John. There's no answer to this…this torment you're causing yourself. There's no reconciliation for you and I. I'm married to Kate now, I love Kate. We have a child. That's it. This is who I am and the sooner you can accept that, the sooner you can move on."

John is searching for the words to express how he feels, he feels surprisingly inarticulate for a writer. But that's the effect Caroline has always had on him, "I just feel so, so…irrelevant," he says. Might as well abandon the last vestiges of self respect, she can see through them anyway.

"I know." Caroline's look is filled with pity and it makes John hate himself just that little bit more, "Perhaps you should talk to someone about it?" He goes to say something, "Someone who can help. A professional? This isn't helping anyone, is it? And you need to pull yourself together because Lawrence is noticing, and it's not having the healthiest effect on him – seeing his dad like this."

"Yes. I…I think I know that. I'll, uh, I'll get going." Defeated, he zips his jacket.

Caroline agrees, "I think that's for the best. Do something with Lawrence this weekend. Something nice. Something for both of you." John nods.

"I'll drop the latch." he says, making a move towards the front door, Caroline follows him.

"If you would." She's almost herding him out of the house.

"I'll phone you." John is stalling because being unwelcome is, in his book, better than being alone with his thoughts, his guilt and the nagging feeling that this situation might be something, possibly the first thing, that he'd have to take responsibility for.

"Right, okay." Caroline's hand is on the door behind him as he steps out onto the doorstep. She leans against the door jam, filling the doorway, preventing him ducking back in. It is an unsubtle message.

"I'll––"

"Yeah, we'll see you soon." And with that, but not without kindness, Caroline closes the door and John is, very definitely, on the outside once again.

* * *

It's a bright morning, the sun flooding in through the large windows is bathing the kitchen in a warm, golden light. Dust dances on the shards of light as Kate pads around, her bare feet making satisfying thuds on the sun-warmed wooden floor. The telephone's sudden, shrill chirp makes her jump a little.

"Hi, it's Gillian!" she exclaims as soon as the phone is answered.

"Gillian, how are you." Kate's tone is warm, friendly. It put Gillian at ease immediately.

"Yeah. Yeah. You, know?" she says, not wanting to dwell on all that, "and you? How's little Flora?"

You can almost feel the warmth of Kate's smile down the phone, "Perfect. She's…she's just perfect. Colicky, not sleeping well, but perfect." As she speaks, the phone tucked under her chin, she is folding Flora's clean clothes. She can't help but smell them, stroke them against her cheek from time to time, she has whole moments in which she can't believe Flora is really here.

"Good, good. Not about the colic. That's…" Gillian checks her watch, she's in the staff room at Pattersons and she's only been here a week or so, she can't take liberties like she used to at Greenhoughs, "Kate, I rang to ask your opinion on something."

"Oh yes?" Kate's intrigued.

"Robbie was, well, we were wanting to invite you and Caroline, all of you really, over for Sunday lunch. This weekend. Nothing special. I'll roast a chicken or something. You do eat chicken?"

"Yes, yes. Can't do nuts, but everything else is fine." Kate replies.

"Good. Excellent. But, I mean, Dad and Celia will be here. So, I wanted to ask if you thought it'd be…" Gillian searches for the right word, "safe(?) to have Caroline here too? I mean, I assume they're still…at odds."

"Yes, they are." Kate confirms. She thinks for a moment. Sod it, she's had enough of this anyway, and she and Alan had resolved to do something about it, perhaps this is just the thing, "But I don't see why we should let that affect things. They're both adults. I'm sure they can be in the same room as each other without making a scene."

"Good. Are you? Good." Gillian checks her watch again, quickly: "So I'll ring Caroline and ask her. I thought…it might seem weird if I didn't ask her myself. You know? And don't mention that I rang?"

Kate smiles, accustomed now to the relationship between Caroline and Gillian, "Of course."

Gillian makes her excuses, hangs up and heads swiftly back to her checkout whilst Kate continues with her laundry.

* * *

After a long first week back at work, Caroline is looking forward to a leisurely weekend with her family. Lawrence has plans with his dad, with John, and she has plans for her and Kate which involve chocolate, wine and languid kissing on the sofa. She smiles to herself as she raises her glasses from tired eyes and rests them on top of her head. She leans back in her chair, tucked away in her small, immaculate and efficient office. She rolls back the sleeves on her blue cotton shirt and adjusts her collar. Her blonde hair clipped tidily up, she rubs her stiff neck. Time to call it a day, she decides as her mobile pulses somewhere on her desk. She lifts a few papers before locating it. The screen tells her it's Gillian.

"Gillian!" She enthuses, by way of a greeting, "to what do I owe the..." She's attempting to sound jovial, upbeat, but the truth is that things with Gillian have been fraught for months and she has no idea why. There was all the stuff with Alan and Gary and them keeping it from her mum, and she knew she'd been pushy, overprotective, but she hadn't been wrong about the fallout. But Gillian wouldn't come to the wedding, instead making up some story about them, her and Raff, being busy. And then there was text, the one she sent after the wedding, which Gillian had shrugged off as a joke. They'd all played along with that facade, but Caroline was not convinced. Gillian was always complicated. She had a lot of things going on, and she seemed very much like she was her own worst enemy. Caroline always tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She smiled to herself, this was Kate's influence.

"Caroline, I'm doing Sunday lunch on...well, Sunday. We, me and Robbie, wanted you to come. We haven't seen you for a while and, well, we'd love to meet Flora... What do you think?"

It's out of the blue, Gillian thinks, it's weird. She'll think it's weird. She doesn't even know why her dad and Robbie were so keen on getting them over here, she covers the microphone on her handset, "Raff, have you any idea why me dad and Robbie wanted to get the lesbians over for lunch?" Raff, busy stuffing toast into his mouth, shrugs.

"...so it'd just be me, Kate and Flora." Caroline is explaining, Gillian realises she's not been listening. Something about Lawrence, she assumes.

"Just the three of you? No problem. I'll chuck an extra potato in for Flora," Gillian jokes. Seriously now: "So about 1?"

"Great. We'll see you then. Love to Kate. Bye. Bye bye."

Raff is shaking his head.

"What?" Gillian asks.

"I thought you liked Caroline." Raff half asks, half states.

"I d- What is it with you and Robbie? Are you the Caroline fan club?"

Raff ignores her, "If you like her, what's with all this 'the lesbians' stuff? You sound like Celia."

"I do not!" Gillian is horrified.

"You do! If you like her, and I know you're not homophobic, you need to stop calling her a lesbian like that, like it's a bad thing." He says, he's half laughing at the outrage on her face.

"It's not...it's just a joke."

"Yeah?" Says Raff, "It's embarrassing."

"Embarrassing." Gillian scoffs, "it's funny."

Raff raises an eyebrow, "Is it, though?" And he leaves the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

Caroline sweeps into the kitchen, barefooted. It's the weekend, the sun is flooding in and almost all of her favourite people are here. She feels that swell; a perfect moment of happiness and an appreciation for all she has. Before Christmas, before her reconciliation with Kate, she couldn't remember when she'd last felt this acute, overwhelming happiness. But since then she only had to look at Kate, and remember how she felt when they were apart, to realise the fragility of happiness and how important it was to recognise it when it found you.

Lawrence is sitting at the breakfast bar eating toast and reading a comic book, graphic novel, whatever. He's dressed smartly - a shirt John bought him. He's spending the weekend with his dad and they have plans, apparently. She smiles to herself at his furrowed concentration. He carefully wipes his buttery fingers on his shirt before turning the next page. Caroline rolls her eyes.

"Everything ready for when Dad picks you up?" Caroline asks. Lawrence grunts an affirmative without breaking his gaze. Kate looks up and, tilting her head to read the spine, clocks what he's reading.

"Is that...are you reading Death Grip?" She asks. It comes out sterner than she had intended. Caroline looks at Kate, puzzled, before turning her attention back to Lawrence.

Lawrence frowns, "Yeah, why?" He sounds defensive. It's his default tone with Kate. To Caroline's great consternation, Lawrence is still somewhat hostile towards Kate and Flora. She's tried discussing it with him, but he's at that age where the only thing worse than having your mother marry another woman is your mother wanting to talk about the fact that she's married another woman. She knows he's taking flack for it all at school and she knows it's probably her guilt that prevents her from putting her foot down with him. At least, she concedes, they've put a stop to the worst of his snide little comments. Very much his father's son in that respect, she thinks.

"Oh, no no." Kate back-tracks. "It's…it's nothing bad. It's just..." She looks at Caroline who arches an eyebrow in anticipation, "I know the guy who writes them."

Lawrence's normally steely demeanour immediately softens. "Really?" He asks, he looks at his mum, "really?" Like he's expecting this to be a joke they've hatched up, or some lame stepmother attempt at winning favour. Caroline shrugs, she's no idea what Kate's on about.

"Yeah. Um...Greg, my fr-, the guy who...um" a glance at Caroline, she's not Greg's biggest fan, "I knew him at college, years ago." She rummages around for the right words. And she's not really sure where they stand on the don't-mention-Greg rule these days. But even then, there's no point in unnecessary details at this stage, is there?

Caroline visibly bristles at the mention of Greg. The man's a jerk. If it wasn't bad enough that he'd been present at that horrific attempt at a weekend away, an event she'd rather no one had been witness to, he'd also been able to give Kate something she never could. And that bothered her. But, somehow, she realised, it wasn't so bad. Because she had Kate, and they had Flora, and things hadn't worked out so badly. He's still a jerk, thinks Caroline, but maybe that's okay.

Kate and Lawrence are deep in conversation, a sight so rare Caroline is overwhelmed. She feels like she's stumbled upon a deer in a clearing and she shouldn't move or speak, for fear of startling it. Of course, that's precisely when John rolls up, tires crunching over the gravel. Caroline sighs: perfect timing. As always.

* * *

As Caroline waves Lawrence off enthusiastically from the porch he sits stony-faced in the passenger seat of John's car. A slight nod is all the acknowledgment she gets. She sighs and longs for the little boy who wasn't allergic to hugs from him mum.

"Surly teenager dispatched, what should we do next?" Caroline calls to Kate as she shuts the front door and checks through the small pile of post she's scooped up from the door mat.

Kate's loading the dishwasher. She stands up, looking concerned. "Was it okay to…did you mind that I mentioned Greg?"

Caroline takes a breath. She's learnt to do that. She's always been hot-headed and her quick retorts, coupled with her fierce intellect means she wounds more often than she intends to. It's a habit. It helps her order her thoughts, take a step back. To not say the first sarcastic, clever thing that comes to mind just because she can. But for Kate, who recognises this pause, it doesn't bode well. "No." Says Caroline, "No." She seems surer the second time. "You and Lawrence need some common ground, and if Greg can offer that then…why not? Means he's useful for something…Besides…the obvious," She gestures toward Kate, she smiles weakly "But please, please warn me if I'm going to have to see him, I'm going to need to prepare myself."

Kate smiles, grateful. They have talked about Greg role in creating Flora before – before she was here – and Caroline still seemed to really dislike him. But things had changed, hadn't they? They had her, their Flora, and they were married. Greg's presence was minimal and Caroline seemed placated by that.

"So," Kate begins, dishwasher loaded and whirring in the background, breakfast detritus cleared away, "What should we do with ourselves? We have a whole weekend…well, we have today. We're going to Gillian's tomorrow, but we have today." Her eyes sparkle with mischief, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Caroline smiles, slyly, "Supermarket?"

Kate grins and nods, "Supermarket."

* * *

"Dr Elliott?" a familiar voice calls out across the potatoes and broccoli. Caroline looks up, around, searching. She finds her target; a petite red-haired girl. Holly? Yes Holly.

"Hello, how are you?" Caroline stalls. Trying desperately to remember details. It wasn't often she ran into students or ex-students but when she did she liked to offer them the respect of knowing who they were.

Holly is about to answer as Kate returns to the trolley – which Caroline is always in control of – with one arm curled protectively around Flora, bundled up in a baby sling, "…they don't have the usual ones, so I've got…these…"

"Oh, hello Miss McKenzie," Holly is as cheery to see Kate as she was to see Caroline, but looks a little confused as Kate leans over and drops a box of crackers into the clearly shared trolley.

"Hi Holly, it's Mrs McKenzie-Dawson now,"Kate corrects, flashing a look at Caroline, and she leaves it at that. This, she thinks, is Caroline's circus. She can say as much or as little as she wants. As they've not really encountered this situation before, Kate can't help but be curious as to how Caroline will handle it.

Holly smiles broadly, "You got married? Aww! And had a little one!" she exclaims, and begins to coo over Flora.

"Yes," says Caroline, not a single hint of concern on her face. Kate is pleased. "We…uh, we got married. Kate and I." She allows that to settle for a moment before adding, "This is our daughter, Flora."

Kate has never been prouder.

Holly's smile doesn't falter as she looks from one woman to the other. "How lovely," she says, her voice cheery and light, "Congratulations! So, I'm a nanny now. If you ever need one, please give me a call." She passes a business card to Kate and she disappears amongst the salads and the loose fruit.

Caroline, slightly open-mouthed, looks over at Kate who shrugs and smiles, "that was easy." And Kate feels a new certainty wash over her.

* * *

Caroline turns down the volume on the radio a bit, having settled Flora she doesn't want to risk the noise waking her. The kitchen is warm and the air is dancing with spices.

"I was thinking..." Caroline begins, approaching Kate's hob-side position, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on Kate's shoulder. Kate slowly stirs a thick stew.

"Oh yes?"

"We should take a holiday."

"Yes. Should we? You and I and hotels don't have a great track record…" Kate teases, gently, awaiting Caroline's response, "too soon?"

"You're forgetting the hotel at Christmas." Caroline states with a smile.

"Oh, yes…I was." Kate replies wistfully, and a wide smile spreads across her face as the memory settles in her mind.

"Not immediately. Over summer." Caroline brings the conversation back on track, releasing Kate with a gentle kiss to her cheek. "What do you think?"

"All of us?" Kate loves Lawrence, there's no doubt in her mind about that, she sees Caroline's stubbornness in the boy, her quick tongue which he's not yet learnt to hold. But can she imagine two weeks, holed up in a hotel with his casual hostility and their tiny, restless daughter? It doesn't really sound restorative…

"Well, no. Lawrence wants to go to Florida with Angus's family."

"Does he?"

"I was getting to that bit."

"Obviously."

"But maybe that's best?"

Is Caroline trying to convince herself? Kate can't be sure. "Will it?"

"Can you imagine dragging a 16 year old around all the galleries and museums and boring mum stuff we'd want to do?"

"Oh yes?" Kate smiles. The memory of Christmas not yet dislodged from her thoughts, "I like the sound of mum stuff."

Caroline looks at her, her mind is suddenly no longer on holidays, or galleries and museums. It's on Kate. "Do you?" Her words are languid, suggestive.

"Shall I turn the hob off?" Kate asks, she doesn't wait for an answer.

* * *

Gillian hauls the carrier bag from the back of the land rover and kicks the door shut. You have to give them a good shove, there's no subtlety in agricultural vehicles. They only respond to brute force. She shuffles up the steps to her door, a bag weighing down each hand, she nudges the door open with her elbow - never locks it - and passes through the door's dark mouth and into the house beyond.

The house sleeps. As much as a house of that age ever does. It protests against the force of the wind, whistling relentlessly across the moors, and it sighs in relief as the wind drops. Gillian tucks a bottle of wine - two bottles - in the fridge, next to a large, plump chicken. She is feeding them all tomorrow. Her dad, his wife, Caroline and Kate, Raff and Ellie, Robbie. She makes the most sense as a nurturer, she thinks, knows what is expected of her. But she still wishes there were more.

The kettle whistles rudely into the hushed dark of the kitchen, and Gillian shushes it as she pours its contents, carelessly, into a large red mug. It leaves a glistening circle as she moves the mug to the table. Who cares, she thinks, there's only me. It's only a bit of water. Who cares.

And so she sits, sipping noisily at a too-hot cup of tea, trying not to think about tomorrow, or her empty bed, or the unending stream of things she has to do for other people which she both relishes and resents, in equal measure. She listens to the strain of the house against the wind and she knows it will be here long after she has gone.

* * *

It's dark when Kate wakes, suddenly. Flora is her first thought. Did she stir? Did she cry? Kate lays silently, listening. Nothing.

Then, on the monitor, a warm whisper - it's Caroline: "come on now sweetheart, don't wake mummy she needs to catch up on some sleep. She's going to have to referee between me and your Grannie tomorrow…shhh," Kate reaches across into the warm emptiness beside her. How did Caroline wake and she didn't, that woman usually sleeps though anything. Kate rolls back towards the monitor, propping herself up on her elbow to listen.

 _and I'd do anything to make you stay… no light, no light. Tell me what you want me to say…_

Caroline sings, gently, to Flora and soon Kate can hear the familiar gurgles of their daughter as she slips back into sleep. A few minutes more and, as Kate's eyelids are beginning to feel heavy again, Caroline slides silently back into the bed beside her.

"Florence and the Machine?" Kate teases. Her voice is heavy, thick with sleep. Caroline smiles.

"It reminds me of William. I've got the CD in the Jeep… You're supposed to be asleep. Did I wake you?"

"No," Kate mumbles, "Well, yes. Probably. But it doesn't matter."

Caroline moves across the mattress and curls herself around Kate, planting a kiss on the back of her neck and sliding her arm gently around her wife's waist. "Sorry," she mumbles into Kate's hair.

* * *

The kitchen at the farmhouse is dark compared to her own, bright edwardian home, but Caroline finds it appropriately comforting and suspects it's probably just the right kind of cosy in winter, being out here in the middle of nowhere, so isolated.

"Will you come," Gillian asks, trimming the end of a carrot, scraping her knife down its orange flesh, "to the wedding?"

Caroline looks up at her, "Suppose it'd look odd if I didn't, wouldn't it?

There's a brief moment of awkward silence between the women, loaded with the weight of all the secrets Caroline keeps on Gillian's behalf. And with the gentle understanding that those secrets are now — will always be — safe.

Gillian, desperate to lighten the mood, asks: "So, what's all this about John's book?"

Caroline's shoulders slump in mock exhaustion. "Oh, you've heard?"

Gillian isn't sure if she should have raised the topic, her dad had said Caroline seemed unsettled by it, "He…he mentioned it. In passing. Once or twice. Oh and we had Judith turn up here that one evening a while back, drunk, looking for him. Something about it being her idea and he stole it?"

Caroline, carefully scrapes the skin from a perfectly round potato. "Well, he's written it. I'm not sure if it's the story he told you about, but it's still very much about us. Just instead of writing what happened with Mum and Alan and everything – which we warned him off – he made up a new story. Peppered with real events. In which things between Kate and I went…badly."

Gillian's jaw drops, "That's a very thinly disguised…I don't know what that is. Is he getting back at you?"

Raised eyebrows from Caroline, "Clearly."

"So he's written you two splitting up?" Gillian drops the last of her carrots neatly into the saucepan in front of her and wipes her hands.

"Not…not exactly." She feels a little guilty telling Gillian about this, she hasn't told Kate the finer details. "He killed Kate's 'character' off." She got three chapters then *poof*, gone. Kate doesn't know."

Gillian gasps in exaggerated horror. She can't quite believe John's audacity, but she's not certain she sees it as the crime Caroline is portraying it to be.

"I'm just tired," Caroline admits, "of having to defend my decision to be with Kate to him, to my mother, to Lawrence…"

"Still a bit in shock, I suppose?" Gillian offers.

"But it changes nothing. I'm still the same person. I could just have easily have fallen in love with another man…"

"Yes," says Gillian, she thinks for a second, "could you?"

"Well no," Caroline admits, "that was for…for effect. But you take my point? There's so much focus on the fact that Kate is a woman and no one seems to care that she makes me happy, that it's only about that. It's not some scathing commentary on former relationships, it's not to embarrass and otherwise challenge my narrow-minded mother, it's not to make my son's life difficult. This, for once, was just about me; about what I wanted. And it's exhausting to have to keep defending that choice."

"Yeah, I can imagine," says Gillian, because that's what you say in these situations, but she'd freely admit that she can't really imagine at all. She's always found herself judged for picking inappropriate men. But Kate is the most appropriate person she can possibly imagine for Caroline, they seem ideally suited - Kate calms Caroline's fieriness and Caroline seems to make Kate braver, more sure of herself - and still people have opinions on their relationship. She knows they do. She's thinks back to her conversation with Raff on Friday and she feels momentarily guilty. But she knows her snipes at Caroline have never been about her sexuality. Not really. That was just...low hanging fruit. Caroline makes her feel inadequate. The gay thing was a gift, really. A great leveller. It made her less perfect, put her a little off-kilter. Gillian watched her companion carefully, attentively, peeling vegetables and she realised that it actually made Caroline more human to know that these things were out of her control, like they were for regular people. And she realises how much she really, really likes her.

"Me Granddad's here" Raff yells from the living room. Gillian jumps up and, clumsily wiping her hands, heads off to greet her guests.

Caroline, left sitting alone at the scrubbed wooden table, takes a deep, significant breath, and braces herself.


End file.
